Can't Get Around You
by smc-27
Summary: Why is being Jewish such an important quality in a potential girlfriend? Because there aren't many Jewish girls in Lima. Which is exactly how Puck knows Rachel a little better than most people might think. Puck/Rachel Oneshot. Past, Present, Future.


**A/N:** Forgot I had this completed. Oops.

Basically, this starts when Puck and Rachel are kids and follows the timeline/events of the show, then into the future.

Hope you like!

**----**

She's five, and he's just turned six, and they're sitting in the basement of their temple. They're with eight other kids of varying ages, because that's the extent of the Jewish kids in their community.

And she's one of two girls. The other is 12 and sitting on her own, reading a Seventeen magazine because she thinks she's better than everyone else, just because she's the oldest person in the room, other than their 22 year old 'chaperon'.

There's a table full of snacks, juice and cookies, and Rachel places an oatmeal raisin cookie on a napkin and carries it carefully over to the table where the rest of the boys are sitting. None of them have napkins, and they've all untucked their shirts. Jacob has a swipe of green marker on his arm from where Caleb 'tagged' him for wanting to colour instead of playing with Legos like the rest of the boys.

Jeremy, Aaron and Noah are trying to see who can fit the most cookies in their mouths. If there was another table to sit at, Rachel would not be sitting here.

"What're you starin' at?" Noah mumbles, chocolate stuck to his teeth and crumbs on his shirt.

Rachel straightens her posture and picks a small piece off her cookie. "Nothing."

"What?" he asks again, setting his face into an angry scowl.

"You're being gross," she states.

"Well you're being...ugly."

The rest of the boys laugh. Rachel cries.

They don't know that this won't be the last time she cries because of him.

----

They're both nine, sitting in the backyard of Jacob Ben-Israel's house.

Rachel isn't sure who wants to be there less, herself or Noah.

Jacob is always doing stupid things, like pulling her hair and talking really close to her. And his breath always smells bad. And sometimes he tries to take her hand, and his are always sweaty.

And Noah? Noah's just _angry_. Rachel thinks it might be because his dad moved out. She overheard her dads talking about it last week. She doesn't see his mom or baby sister among the crowd, so she's pretty sure he's here at this party alone. Her dads are sipping drinks and talking to some couple Rachel doesn't recognize.

She wants to swim. It's summer, and it's hot outside, but there's no one else swimming, so she just sits on the patio chair, legs swinging back and forth since her feet don't touch the ground. Every once in a while one of her flip flops falls off, and she'll hop down to get it. She's watching the other kids playing, and she sees Noah sitting at the other side of the deck, all by himself.

No one's paying attention to her, and she's getting sick of it. She toys with the hem of her summer dress, her bathing suit underneath, and when she looks up again, Jacob is standing right in front of her with a can of soda in his hand.

"Hi Rachel."

"Hi Jacob."

"Do you want to swim?"

"No, thank you," she lies, smiling sweetly at him, not really wanting to be rude. Her daddy looks over and then blows her a kiss. She waves back.

"C'mon. It's hot out," Jacob says. He takes a sip of his drink, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "It'll be fun."

"She said no, idiot." Jacob and Rachel both look over to see Noah scowling at them. Or maybe just Jacob. "Leave 'er alone."

Jacob walks away without another word, and Rachel smiles weakly over at Noah. He looks away instantly, then gets up and takes his shirt off so he can jump in the pool. She'd love to get in, too, but now she can't, since she told Jacob she didn't want to. She wonders if that's why Noah got into the pool in the first place.

She waves to him before she leaves the party with her dads.

He ignores her.

----

They're 13, and he's pretty much the king of every social situation he's put into. He's Puck now, not Noah. He's the public middle school's best football player, other than the quarterback, who's a boy Rachel doesn't know, but who she's told is Noah's best friend. Puck always has girls around him, and he's always with a big group of people when she sees him.

Ever since fourth grade, she's gone to the private school. Her dads enrolled her since the arts programs are far superior to that of the public school system's. She likes it, the uniforms, the teachers and the focus on academics instead of social standing.

And that one is probably a really good thing, because people just don't seem to like her, and she doesn't understand why.

Despite the fact that she's got choral, dance, and theater classes at school, she still has her private vocal, dance, and piano teachers. There's only one music school in town.

She's more than just a little surprised when she shows up to her vocal lesson one day, and as she waits for her teacher to finish up with a student, Rachel sees Noah Puckerman walk out of one of the classrooms with a guitar case in his hand.

She knows he sees her, but he looks away and out the window, peering around to see if his ride is there, Rachel assumes. He lets out a huff and plops himself down in a chair, sitting his guitar case upright between his legs as he slouches.

"Hi," Rachel says from her spot a few chairs away. He looks at her as if to ask why she's talking to him. "I didn't know you play guitar."

"So? What's it to you?"

She blinks a few times and looks to her hands. "I just didn't know," she repeats.

"Well now you do." He slouches down a little further and checks the time again, rolling his eyes. "Shit. She's always late."

Rachel's voice teacher steps into the waiting area and smiles. "Oh! Noah, you're still here!" He shrugs his shoulder, but it doesn't seem to bother the woman. "Your mother just called. She's working late."

"Great," he mumbles. "Guess I'll walk."

"Don't be silly! Actually, Rachel has been working on the same song you have. Perhaps you two could practice it together."

"Miss. Barrett, I don't think..."

"No way," Puck intervenes.

"Well, your mother told me not to let you leave. And she's called Rachel's father, who's going to drive you home after. So you can either sit out here by yourself, or you can play guitar with us. Either way," Miss. Barrett says.

He doesn't really have much of a choice, does he?

He doesn't say anything, just grabs his guitar case and walks past her, back into the rehearsal room. Rachel gets up and follows, and there are a million butterflies in her stomach, which is strange, since she never gets nervous, not ever, before she sings.

Rachel wasn't really sure which song Miss. Barrett was talking about, but then Puck starts playing I Can't Make You Love Me, and her eyes snap over to where he's sitting, because it's totally unexpected, both the song choice and the fact that he's really, really good.

Rachel misses her cue. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

Puck starts over without even making a comment about her mistake, and when she starts singing, _he_ almost messes up. He had no idea she was this good of a singer. She might be the best singer he's ever heard. He's not ever, ever going to tell her that. God, it'd just make her even more stuck up. But seriously, he's got goosebumps, and he's glad he's wearing a sweater so she doesn't see. And as lame as he thought this would be, it's actually kind of nice to play guitar while she sings. He's not going to admit that either.

Music is just his thing, and it's obviously her thing, too, and he thinks it's not exactly the worst thing in the world that they have that in common.

After her teacher tells them how amazing they are, he sits back with his guitar on his lap and listens to Rachel as she sings a couple other songs, then they go back and do their 'duet' again.

When they leave the lesson, her dads are waiting in the parking lot in their black sedan, and the trunk is popped open so Puck can put his guitar in there. He slides into the back seat next to Rachel, and she's sitting there with her hands folded on her lap overtop of her pleated grey and burgundy plaid skirt. He answers questions only when he's asked them directly, and he spends the rest of the time staring out the window, avoiding eye contact with Rachel.

His friends will tease the shit out of him if they see him with this girl. The private school kids and the public school kids are always fighting. Well, not _really_ fighting. The private school kids just think they're better, and the public school kids think the private school kids are losers. So far, Puck hasn't seen any proof that that's not the case.

He thanks the Berry's for giving him a ride and unlocks his door, and as he's playing guitar lazily on his bed, he wonders what Rachel would sound like singing some of his favourite songs.

----

They're still 13 when they kiss for the very first time.

Weird, right?

Here's how it goes...

Puck gets roped into playing that song with her for the recital their music school puts on, and it's not exactly the worst thing ever. Since none of his friends know he takes music lessons, none of them hear about it. And playing guitar while Rachel sings isn't exactly, like, torture or anything. And his mom is so happy that he thinks she's going to hurt her face from smiling so much.

But after the recital, there's this party/reception thing in the lobby outside the auditorium, and Puck feels really out of place, actually, because all the other kids are pretty snobby, if you ask him. Rachel walks up and starts talking to him about something or another. She eventually tells him that he sounded really good and it was nice working with him, and he doesn't _want_ to smile, it just _happens_.

All the kids around their age end up in one of the rehearsal rooms, their glasses of punch in their hands as they sit around talking about the recital. Which leads to talking about boys and girls, because hey, they're all 12 to 14, and that's pretty much the way every conversation goes.

Then they start playing truth or dare. Why, Puck doesn't really know. It's a stupid game for idiots, and he says as much, but it doesn't seem to sway anyone's opinion.

He's not really paying attention until Jamie Cooper dares Rachel to kiss Puck.

The game just got interesting.

Her face blanches. "No! I will not!" Rachel insists.

"How come? Scared?" Jamie is definitely just trying to needle her into it. "Come on. If you don't do it, we'll never let you live it down."

She glares at him and sets her shoulders. "I won't do it."

"Rachel!"

"Leave her alone," Puck mumbles. He's _not_ standing up for her, he just doesn't want to kiss her.

(Yeah, he totally does. She's a girl, and he's a guy, and he's kinda been collecting kisses lately. He's already kissed six girls since last year.)

"Fine," Jamie says. "Rachel loses."

"You can't _lose_ at truth or dare!" Rachel cries. "This is absurd. I'm leaving."

She gets up and spins around, her hair flipping over her shoulder and the bottom of her dress swishing around her legs. Puck watches her stomp out of the room, and he laughs and shakes his head.

"She's crazy," he says.

Jamie laughs and nods. "You should see her at school. Total teacher's pet. She's in like, every club there is."

Puck doesn't care. Jamie might think he's cool, but he's kind of an idiot, and Puck gets tired of listening to him hand out dares and ask for truths, so Puck leaves the room after about five minutes. He walks into the hall and really hopes that he can find his mom so they can just get the hell out of this place.

Instead he finds Rachel, sitting down on the floor in an empty hallway.

She looks up when she hears his footsteps. "If you're here to tease me, you can just forget it. I know how much of a loser I am." He doesn't know what to say. He settles on not saying anything. He sits across from her, his legs extended and laying next to hers, crossed at the ankle. "He does that all the time, you know."

"What?"

"Bugs me. It's like he wants to make me miserable."

"The more you freak out, the more he's gonna do it," Puck says. He knows it's true, because it's what he does to the losers at his school. She lets out a huff and toys with a lock of her shiny hair. "We were awesome tonight, ya know?"

"I know," she says, laughing when he smiles at her. "You're very talented, Noah."

"Thanks."

"And I'm very talented, too?" she asks, her brow creased like she really needs someone to say it to her.

(She _wants_ to hear _him_ say it to her.)

"Yeah, sure," he mumbles. Her face falls. (He's not ready to admit yet how much he loves hearing her sing.) "How come you wouldn't kiss me?" Her cheeks flush red and he rolls his eyes. "What? Are you into girls or something?"

"No!" she gasps. "Not that that would be a problem. I mean, I _was_ raised by two gay dads."

"I know," he tells her. He gets the feeling, every time he talks to her, that she feels like they're meeting for the first time. She's always stating the obvious. Sometimes he thinks she just likes to hear herself talk.

"I don't want my first kiss to be on a dare, thank you anyway," she says.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. He doesn't know why he thought that wouldn't have been her first kiss. She's pretty enough, he guesses, if you're into girls with flat chests and weird clothes. But her face is nice, and her hair always looks good. Plus, her lips are like, really pouty or whatever. He just figured _someone_ would have kissed her by now.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks hotly. He's sure she'd have her hand on her hip if she were standing. He's had enough rehearsals with her to know she does that when she gets all pissy.

He stands up and looks down at her. "Get up."

"Why?"

"Just get up!" He doesn't mean to sound intimidating, but whatever. It works. She gets up and stands in front of him, hands clasped in front of her.

He takes a step towards her, and she takes a step back, furrowing her brow in confusion. He takes another step, and she backs up against the wall. When he rests his hand on her waist, he notices her dress is really smooth. She unclasps her hands and one of them lands on his wrist. For a second, he thinks she's going to pull his hand off her body, but she doesn't; her hand just rests there on his skin.

"What are you doing?" she asks. Her voice is quieter than he's ever heard it before. He likes it, actually, which is pretty messed up, because he's not supposed to like her. Like, at all. Ever.

"Kissing you," he says, and his other hand comes up to rest on her cheek. She takes a sharp breath and watches as he licks his lips.

She closes her eyes just before his lips hit hers. It's nice, she thinks. She has nothing to base it on, of course, but it's soft, and his lips feel good pressing against hers. He takes her bottom lip between his lips, sucking just gently before pulling away. She opens her eyes after a second and realizes that her other hand has found its way around his back to rest on his shoulder blade. He kisses her again, just a little peck, and she doesn't know why she lets out this little whiny sound when he pulls away.

"Why did you do that?" she whispers, looking down between them.

"I dunno," he admits just as quietly. He runs his thumb over her cheek before taking both hands off her and putting another step between them. "I just wanted to be the first guy you kissed."

It's not a lie, really. He just doesn't get it. And he doesn't know why his palms are sweating or his heart is racing.

"Oh," she says. He gives her a lazy smile and backs up to lean against the opposite wall. "Okay."

"Yeah. Okay."

"I'm going to go find my fathers," she states, smoothing out the front of her dress for no reason. "Goodbye, Noah."

She turns to head down the hall, but Puck laughs and grabs her elbow, spinning her around and sending her the other direction. "This way," he says with a smirk.

She turns red again and just keeps walking.

There's part of him that really, really likes that he made her a little more crazy than usual.

And so that's how Noah Puckerman is Rachel Berry's first kiss.

----

The summer before her freshman year of high school, Rachel learns that the private high school is closing due to high operating costs and low enrollment. As it turns out, the students she's gone to school with forever are more interested in the better sports program of the local public high school than the superior arts program of the private school.

So guess where she has to go. William McKinley.

She's been pouting about it for two weeks when her fathers have finally had enough and tell her that if she doesn't pull out of her funk, they're going to roll back her practice time to one hour a day. It's their sure-fire way to get her to do whatever they want her to.

She walks to her piano lesson that day, because she says she needs the air and at almost 14, her dads know she's old enough to walk across town on her own in the middle of the day.

When she's done her lesson, Noah is standing there in the waiting room, tucking his papers into his guitar case. She hasn't seen much of him since their recital in April. Since their kiss. She always gets nervous around him.

"Hello," she says. He gives her a nod. "Are you done, or just arriving?"

"Done."

"Oh."

"You walking?" he asks after noticing neither of her dads is waiting for her in the parking lot. She nods, and he mimics her. "Wanna like, walk together or something?" She looks like a deer in the headlights. "What?"

"Really?"

"Yeah." He shrugs his shoulders and heads for the door. She's surprised when he holds it open for her.

They walk in silence for a little bit, because he doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to say to her, and she doesn't know what she's supposed to say to him. It's weird, though, he thinks, because she's _always_ talking about something.

Eventually, she starts in, complaining about private schools and public schools and WMHS and whatever, and all he can think is that she's going to be absolutely eaten alive in the public system. She probably fit right in with all the nerds at her old school. Well, maybe not, since she told him that Jamie Cooper always made fun of her, but still. She'll fit in even less at WMHS. He reminds himself that he doesn't care, then turns down Fourth Street so he can stop in at the 7-11.

He heads straight for the slushie machine and grabs the biggest cup there is, filling it up with cherry, his favourite. Rachel's just standing there.

"C'mon. My treat," he says, stuffing his straw in his drink and taking a sip. She's biting her lip and looking at the slushie machine like it's a spaceship or something. "What now?" he asks in frustration.

"I've never had one."

"You've never had a slushie!?"

"No," she answers quietly. "Are they good?"

"Hell yeah, they are," he says, and it makes her laugh a little. "C'mon. Let's go. Chop chop. Pick."

"What kind should I get?" she asks, taking the cup he hands her. It's the size smaller than the one he has, which she's thankful for. She thinks her hand might be too small to even hold the biggest size.

"I dunno. Your favourite," he says, like it's just that obvious.

"There are eight different flavours, Noah! I have to try them all at least twice before I can pick a favourite!"

He rolls his eyes at her because she's totally serious. He doesn't think she ever just does anything on impulse.

"Freak."

She smacks him on the arm and they both laugh. She pours herself a cherry slushie, same as his, and he finds himself smiling at her. He hands her a straw and looks at her expectantly.

"We haven't paid yet," she tells him, like it's a big scandal to even take a sip before money has changed hands.

"So? They know we're gonna." He takes a long sip, just to prove his point. He hopes he hides the fact that he totally has brainfreeze. Dammit. He watches as she sucks on her straw. Her eyes go wide. "Like it?"

"That's so good!"

He smiles as he heads to the register and pays, then they head out into the sticky summer air again.

She asks him how his summer is going, and he tells her that he's babysitting his little sister and making $60 a week from his mom, so it's not so bad, especially when Hannah isn't acting like a brat. Rachel tells him all about her practice and lesson schedule, and he's surprised that every day of the week, she has one lesson or another. And he didn't know before today that she plays tennis. Tennis lessons fall on Thursday afternoons at the country club.

She might be a little stuck up, but he thinks it's kind of cool, how she doesn't flaunt her money in anyone's face. Clearly her dads are well off. They drive a Lexus and have a membership at the country club and have Rachel in every activity her heart desires, but Rachel isn't making it seem like that makes her better than anyone.

It's just her talent that makes her think she's better than everyone.

And sometimes, Puck thinks that she might be right.

So it becomes their 'thing', that on Tuesdays after their lessons are over, they walk together and get slushies and talk about stuff. Sometimes it's stupid things, like what music they're each working on. Sometimes he tells her stories about his family, telling her things about his dad every once in a while, and she never judges him. Sometimes she goes off on tangents about her dreams and the future and the star she's going to be, and he doesn't tell her that she has no chance of making it on Broadway. Sometimes they go to the park and sit under this big maple tree and he plays guitar and she lays on her back on the grass in the shade and sings along to the songs he's playing. When he cuts his hair into a mohawk because one of his friends dares him to, she bites her tongue and doesn't make any negative comments. When she wears some mascara for the first time in her life, he notices something's different and tells her that her eyes look nice.

By the middle of August, she still hasn't picked a favourite slushie flavour, so she starts mixing them together; cola and cherry, grape and blue raspberry, lemon and lime. Puck makes fun of her for it, but she always makes him try.

He gets cherry every time.

Two weeks before school starts, he's not waiting for her when her lesson lets out. She waits five minutes, thinking his lesson has just run late, but she realizes he's already left. She walks home alone that day.

The following week, he's not there again. They're not best friends or anything, but she didn't think he'd just ditch her without notice.

She doesn't see him again until the first day of school. She's already nervous and anxious and about 100 other things. It would be nice to have a friend.

He flat out ignores her when he sees her in the hall. He doesn't even make eye contact. It's like the whole summer never happened. It's like they never performed together and they never kissed and he never played Fire and Rain for her because she requested it.

She will not let herself cry over this.

Her lessons are after school again, and when she walks into the waiting room afterward and sees him sitting there with his guitar case next to him, she ignores him like he's been ignoring her for nearly three weeks.

"Rachel."

She keeps walking past him, pushing open the door and walks out into the September heat. He follows her, which she honestly wasn't expecting. For someone who's been so set on avoiding her, she doesn't think he has any right to stalk her now.

"Leave me alone," she says when he catches up to her and walks beside her.

"No."

"I have a rape whistle, and I'll use it!" she threatens him. She's holding her keys in her hand, the whistle dangling from a keychain, and he yanks it from her grasp. "Hey!"

"Calm down. I'm not...I just wanna talk."

She laughs humourlessly and narrows her eyes. "Really? Because we've talked so much lately?"

"Fuck. I'm sorry, or whatever," he says. She doesn't look impressed. "I just freaked out! With school starting and stuff, and I didn't want..."

"You didn't want to be seen with the freak from the private school."

"No!" he insists, though she knows that's the case. "That's not it. I just...I just...you're not...like me."

"I'm aware of that, thank you." She puts her hand on her hip and waits for a better explanation.

"I just knew that when you came to school...fuck. Everyone was gonna bug you, and I couldn't...I mean, I've got a reputation, you know?"

"So you didn't want to be seen with the freak from the private school," she states, like it's not up for debate. He's just admitted it.

"I don't think you're a freak, Rachel."

"You just know everyone else does, and you don't want to help them get to know me so we can prove them wrong?" she asks. He doesn't say anything, so she turns and starts walking away again.

"C'mon! You don't know what it's like at this school," he says, catching up with her again.

"No, I don't," she says seriously. "It would have been nice if the only person I know there would have helped me, even a little bit. But you just...you looked right through me, Noah, like I didn't even exist. I am completely aware that we aren't best friends. That will never happen. But it wouldn't have killed you or your reputation if you'd just said hello to me. You didn't have to just disappear for weeks."

"Yes I did!" he shouts. He moves to stand in front of her, stopping her from walking. "I'm a freshman too, you know. I've gotta prove that I'm not a loser. Is that what you wanna hear? That hanging out with you would make me a loser?"

She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her. He feels like a complete dick.

"If that's the truth, then that's what I want to hear," she says. He's pretty sure she's lying about that.

"Well _fine_, then. You _are_ a freak. You talk _all_ the damn time, and you like show tunes and dancing like a fairy. You think stupid things are interesting and they're _not_. And you wear clothes that make you look like you're 80!"

She's quiet for a second, and he doesn't know if he should run for his life, or apologize and give her a hug. She might be a loser, and she might be a freak, but to be honest, he doesn't hate any of that. He almost likes how weird she is. She makes him laugh. _At_ her, but still. He thinks it's hilarious how she thinks everything through for hours before she makes a decision. And she's so talented that it makes him jealous, because he wants to be like her. He wants to have enough talent in his little finger that he's destined to get out of this town and make something of himself.

Maybe that's why he doesn't want to be around her; because she's better than him, not because she's worse.

Then she breaks the silence.

"I _hate_ you!" she yells at him, little hands balled into fists at her sides.

"You fucking do not."

"_That_!" She points at him angrily. "You don't need to curse at me. And yes I do hate you! I hate you! I hate your stupid haircut and your stupid clothes. And that you're too _stupid_ to even notice that I'm not an idiot! I know what I act like and why everybody thinks I'm a loser. But you know what? So are you!"

"Fuck that."

She shakes her head and swallows hard to keep herself from crying. She doesn't think he's a loser. Not at all. She just wants to hurt him like he's hurt her.

"I hate you, Noah Puckerman. And I would be perfectly happy if I never had the displeasure of seeing, hearing, or talking to you _ever_ again in my _entire_ life."

She flips her hair over her shoulder and leaves him standing there, kind of stunned.

Because he's almost certain she's serious.

He throws a slushie on her for the first time the next day.

Bitch deserved it, if you ask him.

----

"That Rachel chick makes me want to set myself on fire, but she can sing."

He's had this before, this feeling of disappointment that he doesn't get to hear her sing every day anymore.

This time, he's just a member of glee, wanting their best vocalist back.

Last time, he was a boy who missed sitting in the shade beneath a tree, listening to her sing pretty little melodies as she wrapped blades of grass around her finger.

----

The slushies stop when she starts liking him again.

"It's grape. I know it's your favourite, because the last time I tossed a grape one on you, you licked your lips before you cleaned yourself off," he says, a private little smirk on his lips.

She doesn't think her heart should be beating so hard.

When she takes a sip, their eyes lock, and if grape wasn't her favourite before, it is now.

----

Making out with Rachel is an _experience_.

She's really handsy (which he loves) and her plump lips are extra fun to kiss. It's stupid, but they're like little pillows, and she always tastes like a different kind of lip gloss. She likes to sit on top of him, and throughout the week they date, she gets a little more daring about moving (grinding) against him. It's funny, he thinks, that she'll do that, but he can't even put his hand up her shirt.

She's not so into dirty talk or sexting, much to his disappointment. But it's probably for the best, because he's always, always turned on around her. She's always in his head. Her face, all sweet and adoring as he sang to her. Her smile after a particularly hot make out session when he'd said, "Fuck, Rachel. Where'd you learn to kiss like that?" Her little hands on his chest, thumbs grazing his nipples through his shirt. Her sitting on top of him, knowing her skirt wasn't covering her and just her panties and his jeans were separating them.

When she breaks up with him, he pretends it doesn't hurt. He might want Quinn, but he wants Rachel too, somehow. It's weird that way.

"We weren't friends before," he says.

They both know he's lying, but he wishes it was the truth.

----

She tells Finn about the baby. She does it to help him. She wonders if it's selfish, though, too. Not only because she wants him to herself.

She thinks that maybe there's a small part of her, a really mean, really cruel part of her, that just wants to hurt Noah like he's hurt her.

She cries herself to sleep thinking about it.

When she shows up at his house a few days after Sectionals with a plate of I'm Sorry cookies, decorated with blue and pink icing, he actually almost smiles.

She apologizes for telling Finn, and he tells her not to worry about it, that it would have come out eventually and he's actually relieved not to have to live a lie anymore. They talk about Quinn and how she's doing, because the girl hasn't been at school all week.

Rachel folds her hands in her lap as they sit on his sofa in the quiet of his living room.

"You could have told me, you know."

"You hated me," he reminds her.

"I would have listened," she says seriously. "And I never hated you."

He smiles at her a little, meets her eyes when she looks back at him. "I know," he admits.

----

Sophia Fabray Puckerman is born in the middle of March. She's got her father's eyes, but the rest is all Quinn; blonde hair and her little lips and nose.

They've decided to keep her. Puck has been working at The Gap, which he hates, but it's a job, so he does it with as little complaining as possible. Quinn has reconciled with her parents and is living at home again, half her large bedroom turned into an area for the baby. She and Puck have worked out how they're going to divide time and both finish school. They're not together; Quinn doesn't want to be, and Puck hasn't argued.

Rachel is proud of him. She doesn't get a chance to say so.

She's the last person to visit the hospital. She doesn't know why she couldn't come with everyone else. Maybe she just didn't want to be around when there was a big group of people. She said something about a voice lesson (not a lie) and not wanting to overwhelm Quinn with visitors (also true).

When she gets to the door of the hospital room, she notices that Quinn is sleeping, and Noah is walking around the room with a little pink bundle in his arms. Rachel smiles to herself. He looks happier than she's ever seen him.

She taps gently on the door frame and he glances over at her. "Hi," she says quietly.

He jerks his head, gesturing for her to step into the room. She's got a gift bag in her hand, one with little ballerinas on it, all wearing pink tutus.

"'Sup?" Puck asks. He's still smiling all big, and Rachel rolls her eyes at him. He shouldn't be so nonchalant.

She peers over his arm and sets the bag down on the chair in the room. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "Noah. She's...she's beautiful."

"Not bad, right? I made that," he says, smiling proudly as Rachel laughs. "You wanna?"

She nods eagerly and holds out her arms, taking the baby from him effortlessly, holding the girl close to her. Sophia coos and squirms a little bit, and Rachel bounces her a couple times to settle her down again.

"You're good at that," Puck notes.

Rachel doesn't even look at him as she shrugs one shoulder. "I have baby cousins," she explains. "God, she's perfect."

"Thanks, Berry."

"Open your gift," she demands.

He grabs the bag and eyes the design, making Rachel laugh softly as Sophia rests her little hand over Rachel's. Puck pulls out tissue paper and drops it onto the chair, then reaches for a cute little knit sweater. it's pink with a purple stripes around the cuffs of the sleeves, the bottom, and the neck. It won't fit the baby for months and months, until winter comes.

"I made it," Rachel says shyly. "I learned how to knit when I was little."

"It's cute, Rachel. Thanks," Puck says. He only ever says her full name anymore when he's being extra sincere.

"There's more," she says with a smirk.

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a little white onesie. "_I ruined a perfectly good band_," he reads, the black letters screened on the front of the cotton. "Nice!"

Rachel giggles. "I know it doesn't really apply, and Quinn will probably hate it, but I couldn't resist."

"It's awesome, Rach. Thank you," he says. He comes over and wraps an arm around her in a half hug and they both look down at his daughter.

Rachel stays for an hour, talking to Quinn when the blonde wakes up.

Quinn's holding Sophia when Rachel decides she'll give them some time alone, and Puck walks with her to the main doors of the hospital.

"Congratulations," Rachel says, because she realizes she hasn't said it yet.

"Thanks for coming. I thought...I dunno. When everyone else was here and you weren't...I guess I thought you wouldn't show."

She smiles and shakes her head. "Wouldn't miss it."

He watches as she walks away and gets into her car.

As much as he likes to bust her balls, make fun of her and tease the hell out of her, she's always, always nice to him. He doesn't think he deserves it.

----

They graduate high school on a Tuesday, on the hottest day of the year so far. Rachel's fathers are taking pictures of her with her friends, her in her valedictorian's robe, her cap, and holding her diploma. She also won the school's award for excellence in music, and the award for the highest overall average in their graduating class.

Looking at Noah and Quinn, getting their photo taken with their daughter perched on Noah's arm in between them, Rachel thinks the rest of it doesn't mean anything at all.

----

"So, New York, huh?" Puck asks, sidling up next to her at her going away party.

"Yes." She takes a sip of her beer (she's drinking a beer!) and ignores the fact that he's staring at her. "That's always been the plan."

"Yeah. I know." He remembers that summer before high school, sitting under that tree in the park and hearing her talk about the life she was going to be sure she'd have. New York, NYU, Broadway.

For his part, he's taking the landscaping management course at the Lima campus of OSU, and Quinn is taking Early Childhood Education. They're both staying in town, but now that they haven their daughter to take care of, that doesn't really feel like the worst thing in the world anymore.

"I'm kind of scared," she admits quietly. She hasn't said the words to anyone.

"Why the fuck are you scared?"

She actually laughs. That's just so like him. She thinks she might miss that. "What if I don't make it."

"I wouldn't worry about that," he insists, like it's just a given that she's going to be a star. "You're very talented, Rachel."

She laughs even harder, remembering that time more than five years ago, the two of them sitting in that empty hallway.

It's easy to remember every second of the day of your first kiss.

"Thank you."

"And I'm very talented, too?" he prompts.

"Yes," she giggles. "Of course."

She takes a deep breath and they just stand there in the quiet for a few minutes. They both know, somehow, that they'll never get to do this again. They might not ever even see each other again. Who knows? That's the thing about the future; it's all so uncertain. You can plan and wish and hope all you want, but you never _really_ know what's going to happen.

She turns to leave, but he grabs her wrist and then she's standing in front of him. "Hey," he says. She looks up at him not entirely certain what she's supposed to do right now. His hand finds her waist, the other, her cheek. "Good luck."

"Noah..."

He leans in and kisses her, just once, just gently, barely a brush of lip to lip. Her eyes are still closed when he pulls away.

"Go be amazing," he says, like he means it and he'll be pissed if she doesn't do what he tells her to.

All she can do is nod before she walks away from him.

As her dads' car pulls out of Lima, her in the back seat with whatever of her stuff wouldn't fit in the trunk, she doesn't think her heart should be hurting so much.

----

She almost drops out of NYU during her second year when she lands a spot in Spring Awakening. The female lead, actually.

She wants to defer the year, but that's just not good enough for her fathers. She has no intentions of going back to classes now.

That all changes after a few months, when her fathers insist that show business is unreliable at best, and they want her to have something to fall back on. She has a meeting with the arts department dean, who allows her to take self study and online courses to finish her major. She doesn't even half-ass it, because she doesn't really know how. It's hard, with rehearsals and eight shows a week, but she does it.

She knows the exact moment Noah finds out about her landing the role, because the text comes in from him during dinner one night.

_Congrats, Rach. Proud of you. I always knew you could do it. Ever since Can't Make You Love Me. _

She doesn't delete that text.

Ever.

----

Rachel collects Christmas cards and photos of her friends and posts them on the fridge in her little West Village apartment. She's got ones of Kurt in L.A., Finn at university in Tennessee, where he went to play football. She's got a couple of Tina and Artie, hanging out in Chicago, where they're both going to school. And she's got ones of Sophia as she grows up. She assumes all her friends have the same pictures. She's adorable, looking more and more like Puck as she grows up. Her hair is dark now, longer and brown. In the latest photo, she's got her hair in pigtails and a little pink dress on. Noah's messy writing on the back of the photo tells Rachel that he thought she'd like that picture.

She loves it.

----

As she gets busier, the emails and messages stop coming.

Puck accepts this. He doesn't really like it. He's seen videos of her on Youtube (he cleared the search right after), and she's amazing. Her costar looks a little douchey, but she looks like she loves every second of being on stage. Good for her, he thinks. She said she was going to do it, and she has.

And it's not like he's got all the free time in the world, either. His landscaping course was two years, and now he's started his own business. He's living in his own apartment, one bedroom for himself and one for Sophia when she stays with him every second weekend. She comes to see him on Tuesdays and Thursdays as well. He and Quinn have this co-parenting thing down to a science. Sometimes they joke that it's the only thing either of them can do right.

He doesn't _miss_ Rachel. He _doesn't_. He's got a million and one things to think about, like his business and his money and his rent and his daughter. He's a busy guy. He doesn't have time to sit around thinking about a girl he kissed a couple times and dated for eight days in high school.

And besides, any time he sees her dads, they fill him in on how she's doing. He likes that he never has to ask. They're just two proud men who think the sun shines out their daughter's ass.

He'd make fun of them for it if he didn't understand exactly how they feel.

----

Sophia decides she wants to be a ballerina, so he and Quinn sign her up for classes and get her a little leotard.

Puck remembers the hospital the day after she was born and that bag Rachel brought.

It'd be easier not to think about her so much if he didn't have so many reminders.

----

When he hears that she's dating some big lawyer-type guy in New York, Puck doesn't know if he's ever experienced this sinking feeling in his heart before.

(Once._ "I hate you!" _He remembers that after he's had his second beer.)

This guy is apparently like, 30, and her dads don't approve, but he - Matthew - is Jewish and treats her like gold, so they can't really say anything to her about it.

Puck gets drunk, only because it's his weekend without Sophia, and he'd really like to smash something. Instead, he turns on some stupid, cheesy romantic comedy and ignores the annoying voice in the back of his head telling him Rachel probably loves this movie.

He has a dream that night. Rachel in a different kind of white dress and that Star of David necklace, walking toward him.

He wakes up in a sweat and reminds himself that he _cannot possibly_ miss something that he never had to begin with.

The entire time he's at the gym that day, he's punch the image of a guy he's never even met.

----

He whistles all day when he finds out that it didn't work out between Rachel and the lawyer.

----

As it turns out, her fathers were right about her needing something to fall back on.

And fall she did.

She's got a crew of movers unloading a moving truck full of her things into a little house a couple neighbourhoods over from her dads' place. As she stands in her living room, telling the movers where things should go, she tries not to cry again over everything that's brought her here. But she's done enough of that. No sense dwelling in the past when she's got a future to think about. It might not be the one she thought she'd have, but it's a future nonetheless.

And it's not so bad to be home. It's a massive change of pace. Almost 60 to 0, actually. There are rarely ever sirens, and when there are, you hold your breath, hoping it's not someone you know. There are no homeless people asking for money outside the grocery store. There are no 24 hour Chinese restaurants or high-fashion boutiques.

But there's quiet. There's sitting on your front porch with a glass of wine, or driving yourself around instead of taking cabs. There are no buses, other than school buses. She's bought her own house, rather than paying an astronomical amount of rent for an apartment a quarter of the size. And her family is here.

It's not so bad. She keeps telling herself that.

She's got her things half unpacked on her third day home, and she's going stir crazy, so she decides she should take a walk, which she should be doing more of anyway. The only people she's seen are her dads, and that's been fine. She knows that going out in the world, she runs the risk of bumping into people she used to know. But she's lost touch with everyone, which of course she blames herself for, and she doesn't even know who's around anymore.

Well, she knows a few.

She hadn't even realized how close this house was to the park (_that_ park). Her dads kind of took care of everything for her, short from getting her the new job she'll be starting in a few weeks, when summer is over. She finds herself watching young families and small kids running around the park during the middle of the day. It's a Saturday, so it's busier than she remembers. It shouldn't surprise her, how many young families there are in Lima. Sometimes she forgets that not everyone leaves.

She very nearly falls over when she sees him. He's standing in front of her with a little girl perched on his arm. He looks older, more grown up, and she wants to roll her eyes at herself, because of course he is. It's been over four years since she's seen him.

He looks as surprised as she is.

"Noah," she breathes out, a little smile on her lips.

"Hey."

God, she looks good. She's wearing these little denim shorts and a flowing grey tank top. Her hair is different, with sweeping bangs. It's a little shorter, too, he thinks. Her skin is all tanned. He's always loved summer; her in summer.

"Daddy, who's that?" the little girl asks, pointing at Rachel. Puck grabs her hand and pulls it down.

"Don't point," he scolds. Rachel smiles a little bit more. He's a good dad. She never doubted that he would be. "Sophie, that's Rachel. I knew her in high school."

"And mommy too?"

Rachel and Puck both laugh. Rachel and Quinn's friendship was tumultuous at best. When they got along, everything was great. When they were arguing over _whatever_, everyone else wanted to duck for cover.

"Yeah, mommy too," Puck says.

"I remember when you were just a little baby," Rachel says sweetly, grinning at the little girl.

"I'm not a baby anymore!" Sophie insists, like it's the best thing in her whole world, not to be a baby.

Puck laughs and kisses her cheek. "No, you aren't. Run over and sit with Grandma, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Then kites?!" Sophie asks, big green eyes staring up at her daddy.

"Then kites," he confirms.

The little brunette takes off running towards the picnic table where Puck's mom and sister are sitting, and he just shakes his head when Hannah sticks her arm out to catch the girl and pull her up onto the bench.

"She's adorable," Rachel says, breaking the silence.

"She's a pain in my ass," Puck insists. he's smiling, though, and she knows he doesn't mean it, not even a little bit. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries really hard not to check her out. "So how are you? I did a job for your dads a couple weeks ago and they said you were coming home."

"Yes, I heard that," she says. He thinks she's nervous or something. Or maybe flirting. He never really could tell with her.

"Sorry about your knee. That really blows." He looks down and sees a half-moon shaped scar, about two inches long, just above her knee cap. It's strange to see any kind of blemish on her perfect body.

"Eloquent as always," she laughs. He smirks at her and shrugs his shoulder. "Thanks, though. Falling off the stage and shattering my knee-cap was never really part of the plan."

He winces. He thinks he might never really know just how much this sucks for her, losing her dream after only having it for a short time, and coming back to the town she'd worked so hard to get (and stay) away from.

"So you can't dance at all?" he asks.

"Not right now. It still hurts to walk long distances. And even after I'm done my rehab, I won't be able to dance like I'd need to," she says sadly. She frowns for a split second, but he doesn't miss it. He knows she thinks she hid it. "Oh well! Onward, right? No sense dwelling in the past!"

He smiles at her, because that's what she wants him to do. "And now you're gonna be like Shuebury."

"Excuse me?" she giggles.

"I started calling Emma that after they got hitched, you know? And now you're a guidance counselor and assistant glee director," he explains. She laughs a little harder, then pushes her bangs off her forehead.

"Daddy!" Sophie yells from across the park. "_Kites_!"

"I uh...I better..." he stutters.

Rachel waves her hand dismissively. "Yes, of course. _Daddy_," she adds as an afterthought.

He raises his brow and smirks at her as he crosses his arms over his chest. She blushes a pretty shade of pink, and he almost laughs. He doesn't even have to _say_ anything about her calling her daddy, and it still gets her going.

"I'll see you around, Rachel. Maybe we can all get together soon," he suggests. Her brow furrows. "You know, me and Quinn, you. Matt and Mike are still in town, and Mercedes."

"Right," she says softly. It's kind of nice to know she's not the only one back in Lima. "You better go." She looks past him to see Sophie standing there with her hands on her hips, positively glaring at her father. "I see she's got a little bit of Quinn in her, too." He rolls his eyes and nods, and Rachel laughs. "Bye, Noah."

He winks at her and takes off jogging towards his daughter, lifting her up in the air and making her squeal.

It's not so bad, being back in her hometown.

That's not even a lie anymore.

----

The next night, Rachel is sitting in her living room, her healing leg propped up on a pillow on the coffee table as she reads and listens to music in the dim lighting. She's got her hair pulled up and her reading glasses on. She's wearing just a white tank top and a little pair of dark blue shorts.

The very last thing she expects is a knock at her door. Her fathers don't knock, they just walk in, and no one else knows where she lives. She gets up, hissing a little bit when a short pain rips through her knee, and sets her book down on the sofa.

She answers the door, shocked to see Noah standing there on her porch.

He's shocked to see her looking quite so damn hot. Glasses? Good. Hair up and all messy/sexy? Good. Tank top? Good. Shorts? _Damn_ good.

"Hi," she says slowly. "How did you get my address."

A smirk spreads across his lips and he looks to her lawn. "Who do you think did all this?" he asks, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"What?" The first thing she said to her dads about this house was how much she loves the rose bushes and the stone walkway leading up to the house. There's beautiful flowerbeds along the back of the house, too, and perfectly trimmed hedges separating her yard from her neighbours'. Now she knows what job he did for her dads. "Really?" He shrugs as he smiles at her, then leans against her screen door, which he's still holding open. "Sorry! Gosh, I'm sorry. Come in."

He walks into the house and takes a look around. "Nice."

"It's a disaster," she says, like he's crazy for thinking otherwise. "I'm trying to unpack, but...I'm procrastinating."

"Rachel Berry procrastinating?" His eyes are wide and he's totally teasing her. She rolls her eyes and sits down again, propping up her leg again. "You okay?"

"Yes, of course. I just overdid it today. I'm fine, really," she says. He sits down on the coffee table next to her leg and sets his hands on his thighs. "So, what brings you by?"

He decides he's just going to dive right in.

"Sophie thinks I should take you on a date."

Rachel sputters a little bit and then her eyes meet his. "What?"

"Yeah. Since you're pretty," he says, smiling at her.

"Well, her standards are high," Rachel mutters. He laughs and watches as she pushes her bangs off her face again. He likes it when she does that. She's still wearing her glasses. Who knew _that_ could be so hot? "So you want to take me on a date because your daughter thinks that I'm pretty?"

He shrugs again and gives her a smirk that she's sure he designed to make her swoon. "I want to take you on a date because I think you're pretty too."

She bites her cheek to keep from smiling too widely. "You're very charming, Noah."

"I know."

She laughs and shakes her head. "I just got here. And I'm a mess. And I can't _do_ anything. A date with me would be a meal and...well, that's about it. I can't even be on my feet for more than an hour. And I haven't been on a date in a _very_ long time. I wouldn't want you to have a miserable time because of me. And why would you even want to take me out? You say I'm pretty, but what...why?"

"Jesus Christ, Rach," he laughs, running his hand over the back of his neck. "I kinda thought you'd just say yes." A blush creeps over her collar bone. She must be able to feel her skin heating up, because she covers the spot with her hand. "C'mon. Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at 7:00."

"I don't have a choice in this, do I?"

"Nope," he says, smirking smugly. "Sophie'd never forgive me if I didn't listen to her."

"So that's your excuse?" she asks, raising her brow.

"Oh, it's no excuse. I can't say no to her. Which is why you can't say no to me," he says. She laughs again and lets out a sigh. "7:00?"

He gets up and starts towards the door, and even though he tells her not to, she stands and follows him.

"What should I wear?" she asks.

He reaches out and toys with the bottom of her tank top. "This is good."

"Noah."

"No joke. You look...amazing right now," he says, his voice all low as he looks her up and down. He's still playing with the hem of her shirt, and his knuckles are grazing the bare skin of her stomach. Their eyes lock, and hers are all dark. She bites her lip a little, and he almost loses his mind. "This is crazy."

"What?" she whispers.

"I wanna kiss you so bad. You have no idea."

Her heart is racing so fast it isn't even funny. "I don't kiss on the first date," she says, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He takes a step towards her and rests both hands on her hips. "Good thing this isn't a date, then."

He kisses her before she can tell him to stop, which, as it turns out, is a good thing, because she really, really wanted to kiss him. She hasn't been kissed in a long time. She hasn't been kissed like this in even longer. (Sophomore year, eight days of kissing like this.) He pulls her towards him, his hand on the small of her back to keep her in place, the other coming up to the back of her head, slipping into her hair even though she has it pulled up. She pulls away for a moment, just to take off her glasses and drop them onto the hall table. He laughs a little bit against her lips.

She so wants this, wants him.

He pushes the door closed and flicks the lock, and she doesn't even register that he's done it until a full minute later. It's very, very hard to concentrate when he's doing that thing with his tongue that she always loved. God, he could teach classes for this. There's a moment where she wonders how in the world they've never slept together before. She thinks a part of her has wanted him. Always. Since they were kids and he stuck up for her, or since they were 13 and he kissed her for the first time, or since they were 16 and both desperate to forget other people.

As much as he wanted to make it seem otherwise, he was always there in the background of her life. All her biggest moments, best memories, he was there.

"This is _crazy_," she says as his lips move to her neck. He doesn't seem to even register that she's spoken. "God, I..._Oh_." She rolls her head to the side when he finds this perfect spot on her neck that only he's ever found. "I don't do this."

"You do now," he mumbles, his hand running up her back beneath her shirt.

He finds her lips again, kissing her hard, pushing his tongue past her lips again. He loves the way she moans into his mouth, the way her hands grab at his tee shirt like she can't get him close enough. He pulls her shirt up, moving his hands over her smooth skin before tugging her top over her head and dropping it onto the sofa. He doesn't even know when they moved so close to the couch again.

He pulls away, just so he can look at her. He realizes that he's never, not in all the years he's known her, seen this much of her skin. Even the few pool parties they went to in their high school years, she always wore one piece bathing suits. He can't for the life of him figure out why. Her body is so perfect. _So_ perfect.

She takes the opportunity to tug at his shirt, and he pulls it up over his head. He moves to kiss her again, but she stops him, arching her back to keep her lips from his.

"Wait. Don't you have Sophie?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "Q worked. I just watched her for the day." He wraps his arms around her waist, holding her to him a little tighter. "You trying to get out of this?"

Her breathing gets even more shallow. She shakes her head and meets his eyes. "No." He grins and kisses her again, pulling down the straps of her bra over her arms. "I missed you," she admits quietly, her lips next to his ear as he kisses along her collar bone. "I thought about you...so much." His hand moves up to rest on her breast. "God, Noah."

When she reaches down between them and slides down his zipper, he realizes they're still standing in her goddamn living room.

"Bedroom, Rachel. Where is your damn bedroom?"

The moment she sinks into the mattress, she vows to commit all this to memory.

----

"This is the best non-date I've ever had," he says. She's got her head resting on his stomach, laying sideways in her bed as he lays with his back against her pillows.

"Mmm. Me too." Puck thinks it's pretty awesome that she gets all quiet and stuff after sex. "Would you still like to go on a date with me?"

He makes this non-committal grunting sound. "I kinda already got what I wanted, so..." She smacks him on the chest and her jaw drops. "Joking, baby."

She likes the way that sounds, him calling her by that pet name, entirely too much.

"What is this?" she asks, turning on her side to look at him. He glances down at her chest and she quickly pulls up the sheet. "What are we doing? I've been home less than a week and we're falling into bed together. We...our history is so all over the place. I mean, we hardly tolerated each other until we were teenagers, and then we tried hating one another. Then you kissed me before I left, and I honestly thought I might never see you again. We've barely even spoken in almost two years! And that's just..._insane_, isn't it?"

That whole spiel just reminded him of how much he used to hate her talking so much. He likes it now. He's missed it. He's missed _her_.

"Probably. But you always were a little crazy," he says fondly. She rolls her eyes at him. "We can still go on that date. Maybe a bunch of dates. Maybe I'll make myself completely irresistible to you."

She bites her bottom lip and runs her hand over his chest. Jesus. He does not know when in the last four years she became this sexy as hell, kittenish woman, but he's grateful.

"A date sounds nice," she says quietly, moving so her body is parallel with his. "And you are quite a...what was that word you used to use? _Stud_?" He tips his head back, laughing as she kisses his cheek. "But since I don't kiss on the first date..."

"Oh, yeah," he mutters, pulling her on top of him. "We better get some more of that in now."

----

Rachel kisses on the first date. And again the next morning. And on the second date. And pretty much every date (every _day_) after that.

When their friends ask about their relationship, they conveniently leave out the fact that they've been sleeping together practically since she set her feet on Lima soil again.

It's been over a month, and Rachel thinks she's in love with him, which is absolutely ridiculous, because they haven't even defined their relationship. She doesn't think he's the type to have the 'sit down and talk about what you are' conversation. Which she's fine with, surprisingly. She's just starting work, getting her bearings in her new job, and he's busy with his business and his daughter. They see one another almost every day, and everyone who knows them knows that they're together. He's just never called her his girlfriend, and she's never called him her boyfriend.

It wouldn't bother her if her heart didn't race every time he walks into a room.

He enters his apartment one day expecting it to be completely quiet.

Instead, he finds two girls sitting on his sofa. Sophie and Rachel. His little girl is all tucked up against Rachel's side, and they're holding hands as they watch Pocahontas. He takes a second just to watch them. He knows they've heard him come in, since he dropped all his stuff on the floor when he stepped inside.

He walks over to the sofa and kisses both of them on the tops of their heads, then Sophie squeals when he picks her up, his hands underneath her arms, and pulls her up off the couch to hold her.

"Daddy!"

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asks, not that he ever minds seeing his daughter.

"Mommy messed up her work stuff and forgot she had to go and didn't have anywhere to take me," she says, like it's a big exciting event. "So she took me to Grandma's but _she_ had to work and _Hannah_ had soccer and then she brought me _here_ and Rachel is here! We're watching movies." Puck chuckles at his talkative little girl. "Rachel knows all the words."

"_All_ of them?" Puck asks, clearly teasing Rachel. She rolls her eyes at him, but he knows how hot she gets when she watches him 'parent'. Who knew? She says there's something really sexy about him being a dad. Whatever. He'll take it.

"You'll watch, daddy, right? You'll watch it with us?"

He kisses her forehead. "Sure. I just have to shower, then I'll come out and watch." He drops her (gently) onto the couch and messes up her hair, which makes her giggle. When Rachel shakes her head and tries to comb her fingers through Sophie's hair, he messes her hair up too.

"Noah!" she cries. "You're like a child."

He winks at her and teasingly blows her a kiss as he walks down the hall to the bathroom. He pulls off his shirt before he's out of sight, and when he looks back at Rachel, she's shaking her head again. She knows he obviously did that on purpose, not that she's about to complain about getting a glimpse of his body. To say the years have been kind to him would be an understatement.

After Quinn picks Sophie up, thanking Rachel profusely for 'rescuing' her (for all those two fought in high school, Puck's a little weirded out by how well they get along now) Puck grabs a beer from the fridge and can't wipe the smile off his face.

"What?" Rachel asks.

"I just love seeing my little girl," he admits.

Rachel is always surprised at how easily he says things like that these days. Fatherhood has softened him a little bit (not that she'll tell him that). He has no problems telling everyone who'll listen how much he loves his daughter. He'll hold her hand or carry her or run around with her and act like a complete moron, just to get her to let out a giggle. It's like it physically hurts him to say no to her, and when she scowls at him if he does, Rachel almost thinks his heart breaks.

"Good thing you were here," he says, his brow raised and a smirk on his lips.

She stayed over the night before. She was still in bed when he left for work, but promised she'd get up eventually and lock the door when she left. Obviously that never happened.

"Good thing." She tries to take the bottle from his hand, but he pulls it away, out of her reach. "Hey!"

"Get your own!" he laughs. She balls her fist and punches him gently in the stomach, which makes him laugh even harder, because the thought of her trying to be physically imposing is just hilarious. Point proven when she hands the bottle to him so he can take the cap off for her. "Don't pout at me, babe."

"I'm not pouting!"

"You're totally pouting," he says, reaching out to grab onto her waist and pull her closer.

"You wouldn't share. And you're making fun of me. And you messed up my hair!" He's still smirking, and she's trying hard not to smile. "Even Sophie said you were being mean to me."

"Oh, please," he scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. "She thinks you're the best thing ever. If I even look at you funny, she yells at me for it."

Rachel smiles, then. God, he loves how much she loves his little girl.

"So maybe you shouldn't look at me funny, then," she says. She takes a step towards him and wraps her free arm around him, resting her head against his chest. She can hear him take a sip of his beer. "You should be nice to...me."

She almost said _'your girlfriend.' _

_'You should be nice to your girlfriend.' _

"Whatever," he says. "You know I love you."

His heart starts thumping against her cheek and she swears her breath stops. She wants to pull away from him and ask him what he means, how he means that, but she's terrified that he'll just look scared and take the words back.

Shit. _Shit_! He didn't mean to say that. He _means_ it. He does. God, of course he does. You don't spend years thinking about a girl, get said girl back in your life in a big way, spend every day with her, and _not_ fall in love with her. That's just not how it works. But they haven't even had that talk he's been avoiding. You know, that annoying one that girls always want to have because they feel the need to define everything. They've just been enjoying being together.

Now he goes and does this.

She isn't moving, isn't saying anything. She's just standing there, her head resting against him, and he really, really hopes she can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"You uh...you do...know that. Right?" he asks. It's too late to take it back, and dammit, he doesn't want to.

She shakes her head a little bit and his hand moves slowly down her back. "If that's what you're saying. If you mean it. Then...I suppose I know now."

He's a little terrified that she's not saying more. She's supposed to get all excited and squeally and jump him and stuff. At least, that's how he saw it all playing out in his mind. And yes, he's thought about it once or twice or ten times.

She pulls away and she has this little smile on her face as she looks up at him. "Is that what you're saying?" she asks quietly.

He shrugs his shoulder. "Yeah." She smiles a little brighter and leans against him a little more, until her lips are just below his and he just has to bow his head to kiss her. "And...you love me, too?"

She giggles, like she used to when they were little and he was pretending to ignore her (he never really could, though) and nods her head. She thinks it's funny, it's their _thing_, that they do this, make statements and then ask the other if they feel the same way.

"And I love you, too."

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
